


A Lesson Well Learned

by Tarma_Hartley



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Ancient Greece, Ancient History, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Chapter one is long because I couldn't find an appropriate place to split it into another chapter, Child Abandonment, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Kidnapping, Kids in fic, Love, M/M, One True Pairing, Parent-Child Relationship, Some chapters will be longer than others, Suspense, Using real History but fictitiously, Violence, Violence against Children, child abandoned by his birth parents, children in peril, killing of bandits, salty language, some salty language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-05-28 12:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarma_Hartley/pseuds/Tarma_Hartley
Summary: Ajax, one of the adopted children of Lykaon and Alexios, learns a valuable lesson as do his parents when he is kidnapped by a bandit hellbent on revenge against his misthios father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A stand alone Lykaon and Alexios story with their family! :) Kids often clash with their parents when they're growing up and Ajax is no exception; he's entering the age where he wants to be thought of (as he thinks of himself) as a man while Lykaon knows he's still just a child. Ajax, however, is operating under a double whammy: he's adopted and he was exposed on a hillside to die by his birth parents, a common practice in Ancient Greece with unwanted children so he has a lot of issues to work through. A terrible and nauseating practice, indeed!
> 
> I was quite surprised to learn, in the course of my research, that wealthy Grreks had basements where you could store food and it would stay cold, buried under sawdust and wood. I learned something new! :)
> 
> Quite a LOOOOOONG story. When I finished writing it, it was 20 pages; now that I'm still in the process of editing the final couple chapters, its stretched to 31. Thinking of it in chapters really changed the writing dynamic completely.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Pater: Father  
> Mater: Mother  
> Malákes: Assholes  
> Misthios: Mercenary  
> Chaire: Rejoice, be glad; used frequently as both a greeting and a way of saying goodbye
> 
> Lozenges made of honey go back to 1000 BC to Ancient Egypt in rhombus shapes so I have no doubt that Ancient Greeks had them in one form or another, as well, although I don't know what shape they may have been made in so I'm guessing. I've made Lykaon's making of them something special. :)
> 
> History of throat lozenges: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Throat_lozenge
> 
> https://sciencing.com/ancient-greek-food-stored-9799.html--How the Ancient Greeks managd to keep stuff cold

_July 15_ th  
 _Home of Alexios and Lykaon_  
 _Chora of Delphi_  
 _Ancient Greece_  
 _3:30 P.M._  
  
The lone figure stood behind a table underneath a sheer blue fabric canopy that was hung over the area behind his house that doubled as his apothecary, the heat from the afternoon sun beating down upon him despite the cover.

 _I think that I must be one of the most foolish men alive to be making my medicines and poultices at this time of day._  
  
Lykaon, physician in the Chora of Delphi, glanced at the sky from his work through the thin veneer of the fabric, wiping his glistening brow with the back of his hand as he stood by the table outside of his house. He squinted in the bright sunlight, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. _By Helios, its hot._

He heard a soft snore coming from somewhere down by his feet and his eyes flickered downward to see Hyperion, the wolf-dog pup that they had found a year ago, curled up fast asleep, his head resting on his crossed paws. Lykaon was quite fond of the animal although it seemed that both dog and Alexios had differing opinions on certain subjects, particularly feeding time and the chewing of leather sandals.  
  
Time had smoothed out the rough edges between both human and pup which was all to the good as far as the Physician was concerned. The children loved their new pet and Lykaon had had more than one occasion to appreciate Hyperion's presence in the thwarting of thieves who had tried to break into his and Alexios' home.  
  
 _The pup has more sense than his master, it seems._ Lykaon couldn't help but chuckle softly, looking skyward once again momentarily, a trickle of sweat slowly coursing down the back of his neck. A _h, the trials and tribulations of being a Physician._ He reached for the black marble kylix cup that lay to hand nearby and lifted it to his lips, taking a large swallow of clear, cold mountain water that Alexios had brought back with him from one of his jobs. He replaced the cup on top of the table, herbs of every description strewn about over the top, looking them over with a critical eye. _A Healer's work is never done._  
  
After a few moments he nodded in satisfaction and then, with a deft hand, placed different kinds of herbs into the mortar-and-pestle that lay on the table in front of him and crushed them before adding a touch of sweet red wine, olive oil and various kinds of sweet flowers, breathing in the wonderful scent with pleasure. He knew the recipe by heart, having made it several times, and it was one of his favorites since it smelled just as sweet as it tasted; it was also very simple and a pleasure to make which allowed him time to think about things while he worked.  
  
Lost in his work, he was momentarily startled by the soft growl emanating from below and he looked down once again to see Hyperion stir, opening his amber eyes. His mouth wide in a yawn that showed a row of formidable teeth that had sent more than one thief scurrying, before he got to his feet, shaking himself.  
  
 _He has grown so quickly over the past year; it truly is amazing._

The pup yawned once more as he stretched, his back arching, his blackish-grey fur seeming to ripple as he did so and then sat down on his haunches, his large head tilted slightly to the right as he looked at Lykaon, a goofy canine grin on his face.  
  
“Silly pup,” Lykoan said affectionately. Hyperion woofed softly and the physician reached down, ruffling the dog's fur gently, scratching him behind his ears. The pup sighed in pure, canine bliss as he leaned into the caresses, his long, pink tongue giving loving licks on his hand while his tail wagged so hard that he literally vibrated.

After a few moments, Hyperion stepped away, shaking himself and stretching once more before turning and loping into the house, presumably to seek a much cooler place to continue his afternoon nap.  
  
Lykaon watched him as he walked into the house, disappearing into the cool confines, noting again how much the pup had added to their lives even if he did chew up Alexios' sandals on occasion and get on the wrong side of a neighbor for rolling in her flower beds.  
  
 _He may get into trouble every now and then but its hard to deny that he hasn't brought more joy into our lives._

Once he was lost to sight, he paused a moment, took a deep breath and resumed pounding and grinding, being careful not to let the liquid splash over the side as he did so. _  
  
Again, the dog shows much more sense than his master._ He looked longingly at the house as he worked, sighing somewhat ruefully at his own lack of foresight. _Well, there is no help for it; now that I've started, I must finish._

He could hear the dim chirping of crickets in the surrounding area around their home which sounded more muted than it normally did and he couldn't help but wonder if the blistering heat had something to do with that _._ It was hot this afternoon, more so than usual, and he couldn't help but wonder again _why_ he was out here, mixing poultices and herbal medicines when he _should_ be inside in the cool interior of his family's home at this time of day.  
  
 _Not that all the members of my family are present at the moment, however. Alexios is out on a job in Achaia, Elektra and Hektor are with Praxithea, Hippolyta is with Agave and Ajax is prowling around somewhere._

Lykaon smiled as he thought of them. He had to admit, as he reached for another mortar-and-pestle that lay on the opposite end of the table and began to pound and grind the herbs within before he added the minced rose petals, that he and Alexios' lives were certainly much more full, not to mention busy, since their arrival.

 _It's astounding how life could be so busy and yet so full of joy._ He continued his work, watching carefully as he mixed all the ingredients to make one of his famous lozenges, his cheeks coloring slightly. Word had spread beyond the Chora as to the efficacy of the tablets; people here swore by it and he couldn't help feeling somewhat embarrassed-which he always took pains to hide-whenever a satisfied patient offered him profuse thanks. Much to his surprise, he found that people, from Elis to as far away as Kythera Island, had come to the Chora of Delphi to purchase his lozenges.  
  
It was truly _uncanny_ how well they did work for such a simple recipe. Not that he was complaining. _It surely must be the hand of the Divine Asklepios guiding me._ He paused for a moment, clasping his hands together and bowing his head in heartfelt gratitude _. May He be praised!_  
  
Lykaon aid another short prayer before he lifted his head, opened his eyes and then returned to his work. He smiled softly as he carefully mixed the ingredients, forming them into small multicolored pills, his fingers deftly squeezing and shaping the delicate tablets, taking care not to pinch them too tightly before setting them down on a black, oval ceramic platter.

 _I couldn't imagine my life being happier, or more fulfilled, than it is now with Alexios, Ajax, Hektor, Elektra and Hippolyta. They truly have made our lives complete._ He chuckled as he put down the lozenge on the platter, making a few more and placing them beside the first. _Gods know that they can be a handful at times; each has their own personalities and quirks but the happiness that they have brought to us is incomparable. Ajax is definitely one of the most lively children I've ever come across._

He paused a moment. A quick scan of the area showed that there was no sign of his scapegrace son in the present vicinity and he wasn't certain as to his whereabouts. _I should call him; he can't be too far away, not in this heat. And we_ don't _need him wandering off._ The Physician nibbled his lower lip, his eyes narrowing in concern. _Whoever is responsible for the abduction of the children is still out there and the last thing we want to have happen is for him to be taken, too.  
  
_ He lifted his head, staring off into the distance. _I wonder if Alexios has found poor Athena, Basil or Deon yet. She went missing at the same time as her brothers and nothing has been heard from them since._ A chill ran down his back, despite the heat of the day. _Poor Desmothenes; he and Artemis are so despondent over the loss of their children._ _I pray that they may be found alive and well. Speaking of which, I wonder where Ajax has gone off to? I'll need him to run an errand for me later on this today.  
  
_ “ _Ajax_!” Lykaon shouted, leaning out from behind the table, his brown eyes narrowed.  
  
“Yes, Pater?” Ajax's black, curly head popped out from behind the wooden front door where he stood, his crisp blue chiton dotted with smears of dirt on his clothing and a smear of mud across his brow, startling his father for a moment at his sudden appearance.  
  
Once the initial surprise had passed, Lykaon also noted that both his leather belt and sandals were covered with dust, his emerald-green eyes lively with curiosity as he stood looking at his father, one hand boxed on his hip, the other hanging motionless by his side.  
  
Lykaon motioned to him to come over to him and the boy obediently did, grinning as he saw their scapegrace son as thread his way past the tables set up underneath the canopy and coming to stand in front of the table, wincing as he thought of how Agave would react when she came to gather their laundry for the weekly wash the following morning. He could all but hear her loud voice in his head complaining.  
  
 _Apollo knows she's complained of Ajax's temerity in getting dirty often enough and I wish that he would take it to heart. I suppose in one sense I can't blame her for feeling that way but, on the other hand, he is merely a child of eight and all children of that age are prone to getting into mischief, as I well know from my time here in the Chora._ He felt the corners of his lips twitch with amusement as he reached over, tumbling his son's curly raven black locks affectionately, the latter giving him an impish grin. _And dirt._  
  
“You wanted to see me?”  
  
Lykaon nodded. “I need you to go to the village to pick up the herbs I ordered from the farmer a week ago.”  
  
Ajax nodded, eagerness sparkling in his eyes. He was bored hanging around the house with nothing to do and longed for some excitement. “All right, Pater. When will I go?”  
  
“After lunch. Hippolyta and Hektor are over at your Grandmother's for a few days and Elektra is with Agave so this will be the perfect time to go over to pick them up.” Lykaon couldn't help but grin as he winked, Ajax chortling in response as his father looked on with bemusement. He knew full well that his son and his sisters were at odds with each other most of the time; even Hippolyta with her quiet, stolid nature could be a handful on occasion. Still, it didn't stop either Lykaon or Alexios from hoping that one day the siblings would get along and become close to one another.

 _Much like Agave and myself. Hopefully, one day, time will smooth out things between them, gods willing._  
  
Ajax had pivoted on his heel and was about to take a step when his father stopped him. He turned, his eyes quizzical.  
  
“I've also made arrangements with Timon to be your chaperone.” He didn't miss the sudden, sullen squaring of his shoulders. “He is expecting you and will accompany you to the farmer's home a little outside the Chora.”

“Pater...” Ajax's voice was terse, his tone biting. He opened his mouth to say that he was old enough to be able to take care of himself _without_ an adult present but, before he had a chance to say a word, his father beat him to it, shaking his head. He pursed his lips. “When will you start treating me like a man and not a witless child?!”  
  
“When you start acting like one.”

His son glared daggers at him as his face turned red, his hand curling into a fist at his side while Lykaon stood in silence, his face expressionless. The boy was a little _too_ argumentative these days-as he knew that most boys his age were-and he wished he knew how to impress upon the boy that he wasn't trying to be unkind in being more harsh than he meant to be; he, and Alexios as well, were simply trying to ensure that he was kept safe from harm.  
  
They both knew that Ajax had his own ideas about certain things and felt that both he and Alexios were a little _too_ overprotective when it came to him and his younger brother and sisters. Some days, admittedly, were better than others but his son's frequent backchat both troubled and annoyed his paters in equal measure.  
  
 _Perhaps we are being more mindful than we need to be but, given the disappearances of children in and around the Chora lately, one can't really blame us for wanting to be careful and make sure that our children are safe.  
_  
As they stared at each other, Lykaon thought again of the slate of children that had vanished from around the area in and around the Chora, he and Alexios had both taken what steps they could to try to keep their children safe. Ajax was the only one who actively argued with his paters on this subject.... as he was so eloquently proving right now; his expression was stormy with his face turning even redder with the exertion he was employing to keep from having a temper tantrum which, as he well knew from past experience, _didn't_ work with _either_ of his paters. _  
_  
 _Gods grant me patience.  
  
_ Lykaon took deep breaths, letting them out slowly. “I _don't_ want to hear another word about this, Ajax.” His voice was hard, cutting off whatever it had been that the boy had started to say, the latter falling into a sullen, angry silence. “You're _too_ young to wander around the Greek countryside by yourself and I, and Alexios as well, would feel better if you had a chaperone with you.” He gave him a hard look, trying to impress upon his son the seriousness of the perils he faced. “It's dangerous in the outskirts of the Chora and I _don't_ need to tell you _what_ could befall you if you wandered off on your own.”  
  
 _That_ hit home; Ajax's eyes widened and he shuddered, Lykaon nodding solemnly, their minds traveling back to two weeks earlier remembering the job that Alexios had been hired to do and what he was presently engaged in. Three children, two boys, ages seven and five, and one girl age three, had gone missing when they had left the safety of the Chora and had wandered off by themselves.  
  
Near as anyone in the Chora who knew of the event could tell, they had all headed toward the river for some reason, perhaps to pick up some stones on the riverbank, and all three had disappeared somewhere in the woods that surrounded it. At first, their parents weren't too worried since they had gone off into the woods by themselves many times before in the past and had always returned some time later but, when the minutes had stretched into hours, a general hue and cry had been raised.  
  
No trace of them could be found, despite diligent searching, and no one had seen them since. Their poor parents, Desmothenes and Artemis, were beside themselves with worry when they had come to their home three days after they had disappeared, begging Alexios to help them find their children.  
  
Lykaon had soothed her as best he could and Alexios agreed to take on the task of finding their little ones. There had been some promising leads but, much to Alexios' dismay, nothing solid or concrete had been found despite the massive effort he put into trying to find them.  
  
Alexios had left no stone unturned in his quest to find out what had happened to the children; he questioned all who had witnessed the children's disappearances carefully, trying to glean any information, no matter how small or insignificant, that might help him in his search. All of the witnesses had said the same thing, one after the other: they had seen all three of the children wander into the woods but none of them had seen them come back out.

Lykaon offered up a quick prayer. _Apollo, guide Alexios in his quest to find the children and I pray that he will find them all alive soon. And please protect my scapegrace son; he's a good boy at heart but too impetuous and impulsive for his own good._  
  
Ajax remained silent, the toe of his sandal scraping the dirt in front of him, his hands locked together behind his back. From the expression on his face, Lykaon knew that he was fighting the urge to restart the argument but he also knew that he was also thinking _very_ seriously about what he had said about the disappearances of local children. The boy had good sense, when he chose to employ it, and he hoped that this good sense would ultimately win out.  
  
 _I do regret speaking so harshly to him but I really want to impress upon him just_ how _serious this is. He_ needs _to understand the dangers he faces wandering about on his own._  
  
“Very well, Pater,” he said with a resigned sigh after some moments had passed, his shoulders slumping, “I'll... go with Timon to the farmer's home.”  
  
Lykaon let out his breath, realizing just how tense he was by the ache in his shoulders and neck that he hadn't noticed until now.  
  
 _Perhaps I sounded a bit too harsh but its for the boy's own good. He's too headstrong and impulsive and I don't want him getting into trouble because of it._  
  
Lykaon nodded, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. He wasn't fooled by the apparent submissiveness; he knew his son _too_ well for that.

“Good. I expect you to obey Timon's every instruction; he's there to keep you safe and I _don't_ want to hear from him that _you've_ raised Tartaros.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior.”  
  
“Yes, Pater.”  
  
“I know that you think you can take care of yourself out there," the physician continued, "but you're _too_ young. If someone wanted to get back at Alexios, you, and I as well as your other siblings, would be prime targets. You, especially, since you're a child.” He sighed. “I can't help but worry about that.”  
  
Ajax couldn't help himself. “But, Pater, you _don't_ have to worry so much about me! Pater Alexios has been giving me some instructions on how to protect myself.” Ajax spread out his hands, a smug grin impressing itself onto his face. “If something happens, I _know_ what to do! See?” He patted the leather pouch that hung at his waist and Lykaon noticed that it was full to the point of splitting; exactly _what_ it was filled with, he didn't know.

“What do you have in there?” He was genuinely curious as to the pouch's contents.  
  
“It's a pouch full of colored stones, just like Pater Alexios told me to always carry with me. I can leave a trail if I get lost.”  
  
Lykaon frowned. He wasn't sure that he entirely agreed with Alexios on this subject but he knew that their children (as he had just explained to Ajax), or even himself if it came to that, could be a target for a disgruntled person (or group of people) who had issues or desires for revenge against Alexios. And while they couldn't take _him_ on _directly_ (only a fool, or someone really determined or fanatical, would attempt to take on a battle hardened misthios), they _could,_ and _would,_ go after members of his family. And, as he had seen to his sorrow far too often for his liking, with others as well caught in the middle.  
  
It _wasn't,_ as he noted mentally, much of a problem with Stantor, Nikolaus or Kassandra who were warriors and could protect themselves quite well against attack but the children, Agave, Praxithea and even himself _were_ prime targets. They had _no_ military training, they _weren't_ warriors, and this left them at a serious disadvantage when it came to a coordinated attack. Lykaon himself, on Alexios' advice, had, with great reluctance, taken to concealing a dagger discreetly on his person beneath his chalmys both inside, and outside, of his home, whenever he went about his business in the Market in the Chora and even when he went to visit patients.  
  
 _It's unfortunate that it has come to this but I agree with Alexios that its better to be careful than not and be left open to the tender mercies of someone trying to get back at him.  
_  
After a few tense moments of silence, he shook his head and stared hard at Ajax who was stood there uncertainly, his smile of triumph slowly fading.  
  
“The discussion is finished, Ajax. I _don't_ want you going off by yourself because you're _too_ young and-” he lifted his hand to forestall any further argument when he saw Ajax open his mouth but snapped it shut when he saw the look on his father's face -”you _will_ have a chaperone.”  
  
Ajax pouted, his eyes snapping green sparks, kicking a pebble angrily with the toe of his sandal and watching as it skittered down the path. “Very well,” he snapped crossly, “I'll go with Timon.”  
  
Lykaon nodded, hearing _“But I still think that you're wrong and I can take care of myself”_ underneath the words but he didn't mind. He had done his best to impress upon Ajax just _how_ serious he was on his safety and he fervently hoped that his son would take it to heart. The boy _did_ have common sense, when he cared to use it, and he trusted him to make use of it.  
  
 _I know that he's angry with me right now but I do hope that he will realize that I'm only doing it out of love for him. I don't want anything happening to him, or any of the children, and these disappearances have everyone in the Chora on edge.  
_  
“Thank you.” He smiled, reaching out to touch him on the cheek affectionately, with Ajax grimacing slightly and pulling away, muttering under his breath. Lykaon didn't take offense; he knew what boys were like at his age, eschewing tender caresses from their mothers because they felt it made them look less like a man.  
  
Ajax had had a double burden in this respect and one that his father wished he could have spared him: he didn't know his mother having been left exposed on a hill outside the city and Lykaon couldn't help but wonder if this might explain the sudden hostility that their older son was showing these days, along with his outbursts of anger and hotheadedness.  
 _  
Thank Aphrodite that Praxithea found him; I shudder to think what would have happened to him if she hadn't._ In fact, there seemed to be something divine at work in his grandmother's finding of Ajax; he'd thought as much but kept it to himself, reflecting within at how Fate seemed to be at work and happy that he and Alexios now had a child of their own to raise. _We were ready for a family when she found him so I would say that everything worked out well for us all in the end, thank the gods.  
  
_ Lykaon and Ajax stood in silence for a few moments more before they heard a shout, both of them glancing upward to see Timon walking toward them, his weathered, brown face wreathed in smiles, lifting his hand and waving to them.  
  
“Chaire!” he called out as he came up to Ajax and ruffling his hair, the latter rolling his eyes though he didn't pull away from the old gentleman.  
  
“Chaire, Timon,” Lykaon returned, extending his hand and taking Timon's in his own, grasping it before he released it. “How are you this afternoon?”  
  
“Quite well, thank you.”  
  
Lykaon smiled. “That's good to hear. How is your lady wife?”  
  
“Fit and fine, thanks to you, Healer. She sends her grateful thanks.”  
  
Lykaon's cheeks colored slightly but nodded. This never ceasing praise always embarrassed him but he was happy that the lozenges seemed to work well for so many, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Asklepios. He had no doubt that it was He who had inspired him in the creation of the recipe and made a mental note to go to the temple of his patron God later on in the week to offer a sacrifice in thanks.  
  
“I am happy that they worked so well for her,” was all he said in reply and quickly changed the subject. He and Timon chatted amiably for a few moments more before Timon looked down at Ajax, a wide smile on his face.  
  
“And you, young man, are you ready to go to the farmer's farm to pick up the herbs your Pater wants to get?”  
  
Ajax nodded solemnly, his mouth turned down at the corners, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest.  
  
“I am, Timon.”  
  
Timon didn't miss the hard look that the boy shot at his father and instantly deduced the reason, his lips twitching as he tried not to grin.  
 _  
Ah, it appears that the boy and the Healer have been having another disagreement about wanting more freedom, I see. Ajax is too impetuous by halves but I can understand that boys his age think they can tackle the world without anyone's help, especially his fathers'_. He chuckled softly, drawing a curious look from Ajax _. I was once like that and I suspect that Lykaon was once himself that same way as well._

He grinned as he put a hand on Ajax's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze before releasing it, the boy's sullen look disappearing to be replaced by an impish grin.  
  
“Then we'll be off.” He looked at Lykaon. “Take good care, Healer; we'll be back before sunset this evening.”  
  
Lykaon nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
“And you as well, Timon. I'll see you again soon.”  
  
Timon nodded and waved once again before both he and Ajax turned and walked away down the road, talking animatedly about something. Lykaon watched them until they were swallowed up by the crowd that was passing by in front of the house on the road.  
  
 _It's a good thing that Timon likes Ajax and doesn't mind a spirited boy or else he would run rings around him in a very short time._  
  
Lykaon chuckled at the mental image that this conjured up and set back to work on another batch of lozenges.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ajax and Timon go to Philip's farm to pick up the herbs that his pater, Lykaon, needs for his medicines and poultices. Unbeknownst to anyone, danger lurks in the form of a shadowy figure...

_Outside the Chora of Delphi_   
_Philip's farm_   
_4:30 P.M._

“Chaire, Timon, Ajax,” the farmer called out as he saw the two walking up the dusty road toward his home and came rushing down the path to greet them, his weathered face wreathed in smiles, extending his arms. “Good to see you both!”  
  
“Chaire, Philip, you old rascal!” Timon returned heartily, grasping his underarm firmly, an action which the farmer returned, with plenty of affectionate backslapping, as they were old friends. “How are you this fine day?”  
  
Philip chortled. “Fairly well, thank you. How is Penelope? We had heard in the Market that she had been feeling poorly.”  
  
“Quite well, thanks to Lykaon.” His eyes misted. “He gave us some of his rose lozenges and Penelope was healed after a few days. He is a marvelous physician, Philip, truly Gods blessed!”  
  
“Gods be praised! I had heard that his famous pills are _quite_ the wonder; I've also heard that the recipe was thought to be inspired by the Divine Asklepios Himself!”  
  
Timo nodded. “Lykaon would never say so but I wouldn't doubt it, given how quickly Penelope recovered from the blood fever after he treated her with them.” He shivered slightly. “I shudder to think what would have happened had he not.”  
  
Philip nodded solemnly. “Lykaon is a good Physician and a good man. We're lucky to have him.”  
  
“I would agree.”  
  
Philip squeezed his arm affectionately once again before releasing it and glanced at Ajax, a smile spreading over his brown weathered face as he reached down and ruffled the young boy's hair affectionately, the latter giving him an impish grin. “And you. How are you, young Ajax?”  
  
“I'm well, thank you, sir.”

Philip's blue eyes twinkled. “How is your schooling progressing? Who is your tutor?”  
  
A real smile lit up Ajax's face, the earlier fight with his pater forgotten. “Quite well. Both Pater Alexios and Lykaon are quite pleased with how well my lessons are going.” He blushed. “My tutor is Sokrates, a friend of Pater Alexios'.”  
  
“Is he now? This is wonderful news, young one.” He bent down until his eyes were level with the boy's, his hands upon his knees. “Tell me, young sage, what it is you have learned.” Philip's voice was genuinely curious since he and his wife, Athena, looked upon Ajax, Hektor, Hippolyta and Elektra as their honorary adopted children and treated them as such.  
  
“We started studying the legend of Medusa and whether Athena's turning her into a monster was an act of maliciousness or mercy.”  
  
Philip nodded while Timon shook his head, looking on with amusement. “And have you come to any conclusions, young master?”  
  
Ajax thought a moment, tapping his index finger against his bottom lip and then shook his head.  
  
“I'm not sure,” he said slowly, his voice thoughtful, “although I tend to lean more toward mercy than malice.”  
  
Philip was silent for a moment and then clapped the young boy on the shoulder, a wide smile on his face, Ajax visibly relaxing. He wasn't sure why; ordinarily, he felt at home with the farmer-he'd known him for over half of his life-but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he was feeling nervous about _this_ topic.  
  
 _Maybe just religion in general makes me uncomfortable. People get so worked up over it these days; its even worse if you don't have any religious feeling to speak of in the first place._  
  
“A _very_ good answer, young man,” he said with approval, Ajax being firmly brought back to the present, “it is always good to look to the Gods for mercy although They may seem to be harsh at times. Always remember that _Their_ ways are not _ours_ and what may seem to us, mere mortals, to be divine malice may very well be mercy in disguise.”  
  
Ajax nodded, relief flowing through him when Philip straightened up and then turned to Timon, the two beginning an animated discussion while the boy stood there looking at the road, swaying from one foot to the other, his mind wandering.  
  
He had, over the past few months, often wondered if the gods were truly interested in the affairs of men for their betterment. Some seemed to be but others seemed to be nothing more than troublesome, petty meddlers and he wasn't entirely sure if They _really_ were as merciful as both Barnabas and Philip believed.  
  
Privately, he was more like Pater Alexios in this regard in that he believed in the gods and always gave Them honor and respect but his feet were firmly planted on solid ground, governing his life the same way. Pater Alexios was a good man, despite his path being that of a misthios; he could be wrathful but he was also merciful, gentle and kind which was quite an odd combination for someone in his line of work where mercy was in short supply and wrath overwhelming. Ajax dreamed of being like Alexios but he also wanted to be a Physician like Lykaon.  
  
 _It is curious to have such opposite desires but also very confusing._ He grinned crookedly. _I suppose it's also confusing to have two such wonderful paters who are the exact opposites of each other in terms of their life's work. Pater Lykaon is always fond of saying that he and Pater Alexios falling in love was a jest of the Divine Aphrodite and I can't help wondering if he was right. Still...they_ are _perfect for each other, just the same._  
  
Ajax wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and sighed, swatting at an insect that buzzed near his head. It was hot out today and he couldn't wait to get back home into the cool interior, with a cold cup of goat's milk from their kindly neighbor and some fruit; it was making his mouth water as he thought of it.  
  
It wasn't as hot as it had been earlier in the day but it was still too warm for his liking and he couldn't help wishing that Timon and Philip would hurry and get the herbs so that they could begin the journey home.  
  
 _What could be taking them so long?_ he thought crossly, kicking at the ground, dislodging a small patch of stones and sending them skittering in every direction. _We're only here for a bunch of herbs that surely couldn't take_ this _long to prepare!_ A cursory glance told him that he was alone so he was certain that they had gone to the stone herb house off of Philip's main house at some point when he wasn't paying attention.

Still, he waited, his impatience and ill humor increasing as time passed. He hated waiting on tardy adults and it was one thing that hadn't changed over the years. Some moments later, he huffed and, holding his hand sideways to shade his eyes from the sun, looked up the road that led to the stone house but still couldn't see anyone.

 _I wish that they would hurry; I don't want to stand out here all by myself all day!_ As he stared down the road, his brow furrowed, his thoughts drifted back to the fight that that he and one of his sisters, Elektra, had had a week earlier. He loved her but she could be a pain, like all sisters could be he supposed. It wasn't so much the look on her face when she had said he was a cast off but the mocking tone in her voice when she'd said it. _That_ was what had really bothered him and wounded him deeply.  
 _  
I wish that words wouldn't hurt so much but they do. I don't know what I had done to make her say such a terrible thing._ His cheeks colored slightly. _I wonder if she was still upset over the live mouse I put in her bed. I guess I really can't blame her for being upset although I did apologize._  
  
When word of what Elektra had said to him got back to Pater Alexios sometime later, he was furious. He gave her a stern talking to and made her apologize to her brother, which she had done with real contrition after Pater Lykaon had a private talk with her about how careless words, spoken in anger, could and did wound, and wound deeply.

He had forgiven as he always did-after all, she was his sister and he loved her even though she could be a real pain in the tail-but the insult still smarted, festering inside. He found that he _couldn't_ let the incident go, reliving it over and over again in his mind whether he wanted to or not.  
  
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these dark thoughts but another one quickly followed on the heels of the first and it was one that he fervently wished he could forget: the first seven months of his life.  
  
 _Ah, gods, why does this always come back?_ He ran slightly shaking fingers through his raven-black locks. He knew his history; both his paters had told him two years earlier when he had asked them about his origins. He was curious about his parentage; he knew that, to produce a child that one needed a pater _and_ a mater but, since he had two paters and no mater in sight, he _was_ genuinely curious about _where_ he had come from.

Ajax rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing as his fingers came into contact with a knotted muscle. He _wasn't_ sure how he felt about how he had come into the world, into this household and even less if it really mattered. He had been exposed on a hillside to die when he was seven months old and would have perished if not for the intervention of Praxithea, Pater Lykaon's grandmother, who found him while she was on her daily walk. She had quickly brought him to the Physician and his misthios husband to raise as their own.  
  
 _The gods showed me mercy on that occasion; without Them, I would have died._ He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the surrounding area and wiping the sweat from his brow once more. _I often wonder why my birth parents deserted me and left me to die on that hillside. What were the circumstances? Were they showing me mercy or was it pure malice?_

Ajax sighed as he turned to face the road once again, looking up at the sun and squinting as he lifted his hand, shading his eyes from the sunlight, the same, sombre thought invading his mind. _No matter what way you want to look at it, the facts are clear: My mater and pater abandoned me on that hillside to die. Why would they have done such a thing?_  
  
Ajax shook his head hard. As he well knew, going over that long dead history served _no_ useful purpose, as Pater Lykaon continued to point out; his real parents had deserted him on a hillside nearly nine years ago and nothing would change that fact. It never did him any good and all it did was depress him when it came so he quickly changed the subject in his mind, trying to focus on something else instead.  
  
 _At least it isn't as hot as it had been earlier._ He swayed from one foot to the other, his arms crossed over his chest, his lips pursed. _I hope that Timon hurries and gets the herbs soon; I'm bored and I want to go home._ Ajax looked toward the stone house, biting his lip and tapping his foot impatiently, pacing back and forth. _What's taking them so long?!  
_  
What seemed to be an eternity later to the young boy, he was relieved to see Philip striding down the path, a large bundle of herbs held in his hand. He was whistling a merry tune and Ajax couldn't help but wonder what the name of the song was since he didn't recall ever having heard it before.  
  
 _Finally!_  
  
He didn't see Timon and couldn't help but wonder where he had gotten to but it was a fleeting thought as he watched Philip coming closer, the farmer raising his empty hand in greeting, not knowing that someone was watching him closely...


	3. Interlude

_ The tall, burly figure in tattered, worn clothing stood on the road, his eyes widening, a nasty smile crossing his lips. What stroke of the gods had brought him his quarry right into his hands?  
  
Truly, the gods had showed him mercy. He knew who the young whelp that stood some distance away from him was: he was one of the adopted sons of that thrice damned misthios and his Physician husband.  
  
His lips curled, his hand clenching into a fist.  _ I have been looking to even the score for months and now, on this blessed day, I can  _ finally  _ have my revenge on that fucking misthios and a new slave for the market at the same time! Thank You, O Blessed Nemesis!  
  
__ Not for a moment did he think that he may be the one acting with hubris that might yet bring divine punishment down upon him; he knew himself to be in the right. Did not his slave business grow and thrive from its earliest beginnings twenty years earlier? His enterprise had been divinely sanctioned else why would it have grown and continue to prosper?

_ He rubbed his hands together, his mind whirling with possibilities as his greedy eyes lit once again on the young boy, looking him over with a critical eye He was quite experienced in these matters-as well he should since he had been providing slaves for over twenty years-and he prided himself on being able to supply the wealthy, or anyone else with distinguishing tastes, the finest slave flesh that the Greek world had to offer.  
  
He gave him the once over again; the boy was a little too slim for his tastes but what did it matter when there were buyers willing to pay good drachmae for him. He supposed the whelp could be used as an ordinary house slave or his master, or mistress', favorit; whatever the use the boy could be put to was no business of his nor did he care their ultimate fate. They were commodities to be bought and sold on the open market and what happened to them was no concern of his; all he cared about was the drachmae his slave flesh could bring him.  
  
A sneer crossed his craggy features.  _ That fucking misthios has  _ much _ to pay for and I will be the one to bring down punishment on his head after what he did to me six months ago!  _ He chuckled, a low, menacing sound as he turned and began walking quickly over to where the boy stood. _ And this is the perfect way to show my...appreciation. By having the whelp, that fucking misthios'  _ own child _ , sold into slavery before I kill him! I can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds out! This will be  _ perfect _ and just the first step in my mission of vengeance! A  _ very _ blessed day for me, indeed!  
  
_ He checked himself, throttling down the pride he could feel welling up inside of him, shaking his head hard, waving his fingers in the air sketching a sign against the evil eye. Despite his hardnosed views, he was a superstitious man and had to remind himself to be careful in his mission; if he got too high above himself, like Icarus did in flying too near the sun, he could very well bring retribution down upon himself. He had had already enough of  _ that  __ six months earlier. 

_He knew, after that encounter, that he had underestimated just how dangerous Alexios really was and he had to be careful as he sought vengeance against him through his family, ensuring that he, himself, would not get ensnared and have Nemesis turn on_ him. _It would be prudent, he decided, to offer sacrifices to Her before he put his plan into action, thereby assuring him that She would be pleased and then he could carry on as he wished.  
_  
 _Once he had decided on a course of action, he took steps to bring his plan to fruition. He made sacrifices at one of the local temples later on as he had planned, beseeching Her for Her help for him to carry out his mission of revenge against those who wronged him and his band. It seemed to him that Nemesis was indeed pleased if how smoothly his plan was going was any indication. Everything had fallen into place at exactly the right time and he was happy for Her help in this matter.  
  
He couldn't help laughing inside as he approached the boy from slightly behind him, his arms outstretched, his slim fingers stretching out in like talons of an eagle seizing its prey...  
_  
Bless my enterprise and let __my vengeance begin!  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  


Ajax was about to walk toward Philip but, before he could take a single step, he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.   
  
_Ah, it must be Timon._ Ajax's shoulders relaxed from where they had tensed up with the unexpected touch.  _I was wondering where he was! I can't imagine_ why  _he's coming up from behind me instead of walking with Philip...  
_   
He half-turned his head and had opened his mouth to greet him when the words died on his lips as he got a good look at the person standing slightly off to his right: a burly, disheveled, dirty figure, clothed in a tattered black chiton with a ratty grey cloak covering his wide shoulders, old leather sandals that were worn through, a rusty sword strapped to his side with a worn leather belt.  
  
Ajax's eyes widened as he stared at him in confusion  _This isn't Timon!_   



	4. Chapter 4

He opened his mouth to scream when a dirty hand clapped over it, stifling his cry. He could dimly hear shouts coming from somewhere but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he felt a burly arm wrap around his waist, lifting him bodily off of the ground.  
  
Ajax kicked desperately, trying to use his hands to claw at the man's arms but he was held fast, a meancing, surly voice whispering coldly in his ear, _“Try it young whelp and I'll break your fucking neck.”  
  
_ The venom in the man's voice was distinct and clear; Ajax felt terror rushing through him afresh as he kicked and writhed desperately in a vain attempt to free himself from the iron grip that held him fast.  
  
 _Timon, help me!_  
  
He could feel the man draw his sword and he rushed forward; from the corner of his eye, the boy could see both Timon and Philip, swords and daggers drawn, racing to where they stood in an effort to rescue him from his captor but it proved to be a fruitless endeavour. 

The man was younger, and stronger, than either of his would be rescuers which put them at a serious disadvantage. Ajax watched helplessly as the bandit effortlessly parried their blows with ease, parrying each as they came at him before landing a stunning blow on Timon. The older man stopped dead in his tracks, his knees beginning to tremble, a thin trickle of blood slowly starting to course down the left side of his head; he appeared dazed and confused. He dropped his sword, a look of stunned surprise on his face as he staggered forward a few steps before he collapsed, Philip immediately rushing to his side with a shouted “TIMON!”  
  
The man smiled nastily as he put Ajax on the ground in front of him, holding the boy close to his body in a tight grip around his waist. _“Serves you m_ _alákes_ _right,”_ he sneered as he backed away, one sure step at a time, holding out his sword in front of him, _“this little brat of that fucking misthios will be fine bait to lure him into a trap!”_  
  
Ajax's eyes were wide with terror, struggling fruitlessly to escape. The bandit half carried, half dragged the terrified boy away from Philip and the disoriented Timon down the road; he could dimly hear Philip shouting something but he couldn't hear what he was saying. He felt a sharp blow on the side of his head, shrilly grunting in pain, stars dancing before his eyes.  
  
 _Hit me...someone...what?...Pater...what's...happening?!_  
  
A white, hazy mist slowly covered his vision; in his terror, he continued to struggle, the man cursing as he unwound his arm from around his waist to wrap around his neck and squeezed. Choking, Ajax desperately clawed at the man's arm, his sandaled feet trying to kick the man in the shins but the inexorable hold on his throat only tightened more.  
  
 _PATER!_  
  
He continued to struggle, desperately trying to pull in some breath to his tortured lungs; he could feel himself starting to black out. In a moment, if the bandit continued to tighten his grip around his throat, he knew that it would be all be over. Tears of frustration and terror coursed down his face, a shrill, whistling sounds coming from between his compressed lips as he struggled to breathe.  
  
For a moment, all was silent but then he heard something curious in the next, Ajax straining his ears to hear. As if by a miracle, he thought that he heard Pater Alexios' voice speaking to him, his voice low and quiet: : _ **Don't struggle, Ajax; if they have you in a chokehold, they'll only tighten the pressure around your throat. Go limp, even if your mind is screaming at you to keep struggling. Trying to escape your enemy if he, or she, has you pinned, serves no purpose; this way will keep you alive until you can find the right moment to make your escape.:**_ _  
  
Pater...?_ He could have sworn that he was close; the voice was so clear. _Pater...why..can't..I...?  
_  
: _ **Keep still, Ajax and remember what I told you: go limp. Fool your enemy into thinking that you're unconscious then choose your moment.:  
**_  
The boy continued to kick but this only served to enrage his captor further, the grip around his throat only tightening further, the man cursing him roundly _ **.**_ _But, Pater..._ __ **  
  
:Don't give up hope; we'll find you, I promise. Right now, I need you to remember what I taught you. Go limp.:  
  
** Ajax instinctively obeyed that quiet voice, even though his mind was screaming for him to continue to resist. He deliberately struggled a little less as the moments passed before he stopped struggling, his body going limp, the toes of his sandals dragging on the rocky ground. The bandit still had a tight grip around his throat and he could feel darkness racing up to swallow him but he fought hard, clawing his way back from the brink of unconsciousness, hoping that the ruse would fool his captor and have him lessen the grip around his throat.   
  
The bandit, noticing that he'd stopped struggling at last, relinquished his grip on his throat with a satisfied grunt; Ajax found that he could breathe again, hoping that the man wouldn't notice that he was taking in small, deep breaths when he could.

The man smiled nastily as he hoisted the 'unconscious' boy and threw him over his shoulder, running down the road to a waiting cart and tossing him into the back, Ajax doing his best not to cry out as he landed on the hard wooden floor and flopped about.   
  
_Ouch!_

His captor jumped into the seat beside the driver, shouting at him to go; with the sharp crack of the reins, the horses began to trot at a fast pace down the road, the man turning to look back to see if they were being followed and nodding in grim satisfaction when he saw that they _weren't_ .  
  
Ajax had managed to turn himself slowly onto his side, being very careful not to make any noise that would alert his enemy that he  _wasn't_ unconscious; he knew what would happen if he came back here and discovered him awake. 

He bit his lip as he lay there, trying not to move although his cramped his muscles ached with the effort it took to keep them still. _I need to do something but I don't know what.  
  
_ He went over a couple of possibilities that came into his mind before he found his eyes straying to the back of the cart and he noticed that there was no back on it; it had two thick ropes strung between the two sides with a short plank of wood providing any way to make sure that items didn't fall out.   
  
_What can I do?_ He was beginning to panic again and, in his agitation, his hand strayed to his waist, his fingertips coming into contact with the leather pouch filled with colored stones. He went stock still, the presence of the pouch sending another idea into his head. He remembered a story that Pater Lykaon was particularly fond of: Theseus following a golden thread to the lair of the minotaur that would enable him, after he defeated the monster, to find his way out of the maze.  
  
_Wait a minute...My pouch!_ His eyes darted immediately to the bandit's back; to his infinite relief, he saw that the man was staring straight ahead. He was also glad that the bandit hadn't noticed he was even wearing one, he'd been concentrating solely on carrying him off with as little fuss as possible.  _I don't have golden thread but I_ do  _have a pouch full of colored stones.  
  
_ Ajax, his eyes riveted on the bandit's back, quietly opened the pouch and slowly placed it beside him on the floor of the cart, turning it until the open lip faced the back of the cart. They were traveling along at good pace and the bouncing over the stony road was starting to give him a headache but he held on, watching the stones as the made their way out of the pouch, rattling over the floor before they disappeared over the edge, falling to the ground.  
_  
“Step it up,”_ he heard the bandit growl to the man sitting beside him.  _“We need to be away from here and the sooner that happens, and we get this stupid brat to our camp, the better.”  
_   
The man looked at him dubiously, shrugged and then cracked the reins harder; the horses snorted but quickened their pace until they were literally flying down the road.  
  
_Yes, misthios,_ the man thought, smiling as they turned the corner, disappearing into the thick copse of trees two miles away,  _you'll come to save this fucking brat and then I'll have my revenge on you and the boy when I send you_ both  _to the Underworld!_   
  
The thought pleased him as he looked up at the late afternoon sun, pleased that his snatching of the boy had gone so well. Truth, it was annoying when those two old men had tried to come and rescue the boy but he had soon put a stop to that when he knocked the older of the two unconscious.

_  
_ The bandit snorted.  _Too easy._ He smiled wolfishly as they made their way past the road, turning right to enter into a thick copse of trees near the river. _This brat is_ much _better than the others; he's worth something to me alive...at least for the moment._ He threw back his head, laughing uproariously as the thick foliage swallowed them, the dim rays of sunlight gradually fading into an inky darkness the further they traveled inward.  _I can't wait to see the fucking look on your face when I send this whelp of yours into slavery before I send your rotten soul to the Underworld!_   



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lykaon frets and Alexios turns to comfort his worried husband...

**6:30 P.M.**  
  
_Where are they?!_ Lykaon fretted as he paced the stone floor, Alexios watching him as he reclined on the couch by the door, a cup of watered down red wine held in his hand. _They should have been home by now!_  
  
“Healer,” he heard his husband's tired voice say and Lykaon paused in his frantic pacing to look at him, his face pinched and worried. He'd arrived home an hour earlier, despondent that he was still _no_ closer to solving the mystery of the missing children than he had been two weeks earlier.  
  
“I _can't_ help it, Alexios,” he replied to the unspoken thought, looking out of the window once again, biting his lower lip anxiously. “ _Something_ is wrong; Timon and Ajax _should_ have been home over an hour ago. There's no reason why they should be so late.”  
  
He stopped in his frantic pacing, his foot tapping the floor with a sharp, staccato sound. “What worries me even more is that Penelope came over earlier this evening to tell me that Timon hasn't come home yet and she's worried. She asked if he had stopped here and I said I hadn't seen him since this afternoon when he left with Ajax to go to Philip's farm.”  
  
Alexios nodded, frowning. “There could be a logical explanation for why they are late. Perhaps they stopped at Philip's house to take some refreshment this afternoon; both Philip and his wife love the children and consider them as much theirs as ours nd no doubt would have offered them some kind of refreshment before they started back for home. That could be why they are late and they may be on their way here as we speak.”  
  
“Maybe.” Lykaon's voice was reluctant, his head swiveling to look at the door. “I...just have a bad feeling about all this, misthios. _Something_ feels _very_ wrong.”  
  
Alexios was silent for a moment before held out his hand; Lykaon looked at him a moment before he stepped over to him and took it, squeezing it affectionately.  
  
“Come here, Healer.” The mercenary smiled, gently tugging him toward the couch and Lykaon let himself be led to it, sinking down gratefully beside his husband.  
  
Alexios' arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, Lykaon lying his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes, grateful for his silent support. He could feel Alexios' strong fingers gently caressing his hair , his cheek pressed against the side of his head and he leaned into it, feeling some of the anxiety slowly slipping away.  
  
_Thank you, misthios. You always know what I need._ Lykaon snuggled closer to him with a soft sigh, feeling the love and support flow from his husband.  
  
They lay for some time in silence, Alexios holding him close and stroking his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. The feeling that something was wrong was still uppermost in the physician's mind and he couldn't completely relax.  
  
“I can't help but being worried; they should have been back over an hour ago and we haven't heard anything since.”  
  
“I know, Healer,” he murmured, his cheek resting against the crown of the physician's head, “I know.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “I'm sure that they are alright; he's with Timon and I have every confidence in him.”  
  
Lykaon sighed, nodding. “That's true; he wouldn't let any harm befall Ajax or any of the other children.”  
  
“No, he would not. Speaking of which, where are the others?” He chuckled mischievously. happy for an opening to change the subject that was worrying his husband. “When I arrived home, I was greeted with quiet and not a din to wake the dead.” He chortled, his fingers wrapping around a lock of Lykaon's hair and twisting it. “It was a little _too_ quiet for my comfort!”  
  
Lykaon couldn't help but laugh at that. The children, despite their differing personalities, were quite a lively bunch and more often than not the house rang with their shouts, laughter and arguments. It was a noisy household more often than not although their neighbors, bless their hearts, _really_ didn't complain _too_ much.  
  
“Agreed. I often look up at the second floor, wondering if the children are playing hide and seek its so quiet!”  
  
“Too true!” Alexios joined in the mirth, lifting his head and planting a tender kiss on the top of Lykaon's head, resting his chin on the crown. “Much has changed in our lives since their arrival but there is not one day that I would take back. They have brought much happiness to our lives and I feel the luckiest of men to have you and them in my life.”  
  
“As do I, misthios,” Lykaon said quietly, closing his eyes once again and cuddling to close to Alexios. “As do I.”  
  
Both men were so wrapped up in the moment that they didn't hear the sound of running feet racing up the path that led to their home and started when they heard frantic pounding on the front door, a woman's shrill voice crying out to them.  
  
“What the hell?!” Alexios exclaimed as they both jumped up from the couch and raced to the door, throwing it wide open to see a panting Penelope on the porch, holding her side, her weathered face creased in pain.

Cold dread clutched at his insides but he forced himself to calm down as he and Alexios stood on opposite sides of Penelope, each holding an arm in order to give her some support so she wouldn't fall down. They could see that she was exhausted and that she needed them, even though her pride didn't allow her to do so. She gave both of them a grateful look.  
  
_Timon's wife! What's she doing here?_  
  
“Penelope!” Lykaon's voice was concerned. “What on earth are you doing here? What's the matter?” _  
  
_Penelope held up a hand, drawing in deep breaths, slowly standing up straight, both men waiting patiently until she had caught her breath enough that she could speak. ““Forgive me for the intrusion, Lykaon, but... Philip just arrived at our house in... a _terrible_ state.” Her voice was anguished and Lykaon could see that she had been crying, her red-rimmed and puffy eyes giving mute evidence to her _very_ real distress. “He said...he said... that Timon has been hurt and needs you to attend... to him.”  
  
“ _Hurt_?” Alexios' voice was ragged, his eyes flickering over to Lykaon's. “How was he hurt? What happened?! Do you know what happened?!” _  
_  
Penelope held up a hand and Alexios bit down on his words, both men waiting anxiously for her to continue.  
  
She took a few deep breaths before she spoke again. “Philip...Philip said that someone... snatched … Ajax while they were coming back from the herb house with the herbs you had ordered last week.”  
  
“What?!” Alexios's face fell, his hand curling into a tight fist, Lykaon feeling a fresh wave of cold dread clutch at him. “Taken? By whom? Did he recognize the one who took him?”  
  
“No, misthios; it _wasn't_ someone either he or Timon recognized.” She paused again before continuing. “He heard the man say something about Ajax being the _'bait'_ in order to lure you into a trap.” She turned anguished eyes to look at both of them, both men's faces white. “Timon tried to stop them but the man slashed at him with a sword, knocking him senseless before he left, dragging Ajax along with him.”  
  
_Oh, gods..._ Lykaon clutched the front of his chalmys, his knuckles trembling as they gripped the blue fabric tightly. “Did...anyone see where they went?”  
  
Penelope shook her head. “No, Healer. Philip didn't see where they went since he was tending to my Timon. The bandit who had Ajax hit him on the side of the head with the side of his sword and he fell onto the ground; when Philip looked up from where he had been tending to him, they were gone.” Penelope wrang her hands, her voice rising in distress. “I'm _so_ sorry that this happened! Timon did his best but he's hurt and needs tending to. Please... _please_ come!”  
  
Lykaon nodded, squeezing her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Penelope, please don't distress yourself over what happened; Timon did his best and no one can fault him for that. I'll gather some medicines and be right with you.”  
  
Alexios concurred as he rushed over to the couch and picked up his cloak, hurrying toward the front door while Lykaon went to grab his physician's pouch before joining him.  
  
“I'll saddle up Phobos and then I'll come with you.” His eyes hardened, his lip curling into a feral snarl. “If someone took _my_ child in an attempt to get at _me_ , then its clear that this is someone I've crossed paths with before and he is going to be very, _very_ sorry when I _find_ him!”  
  
“Let's not think of that right now, Alexios,” Lykaon said, gathering up some vials and three small clay pots of various salves and the rose pills, placing all of them into the large leather pouch, slinging it over his shoulder. “Timon is hurt and that's what we should concentrate on presently.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Once we have him patched up, he can tell us more once he's out of danger and we can question Philip, too, to find out what he knows.”  
  
Alexios nodded, his expression stormy; Lykaon wasn't about to blame him for feeling that way. “You're right, Healer. Let's go to Timon and see if he can tell us anything.” He squared his jaw, saying nothing more but Lykaon could see the anger etched plainly on his face.  
  
Lykaon nodded, turning to Penelope and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, the old woman looking at him gratefully through tear-stained brown eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely as she turned to leave, clutching Lykaon's hands in her own gnarled ones; he could feel her trembling despite her best efforts to control it. “Please, do all you can for him.”  
  
“I will, I promise.” Lykaon gave her what he hoped was a soothing smile, his own heart aching as he squeezed her hands and released them. Strangely enough, the fact that he had a patient to attend gave him the strength he needed to not fall apart though his heart was in turmoil.  
  
_I need to be strong for Timon; he needs me right now and I won't be of any use to him if I give in to my fear._  
  
Lykaon looked inside the pouch once more before nodding in satisfaction.  
  
“Let's go,” he said shortly and walked through the door, Alexios and Penelope following silently after him, the mercenary lagging behind somewhat as he locked the door before he hurried to the stables where both Penelope and Lykaon were waiting for him with their horses.


	6. Chapter 6

_Bandit camp  
Six miles away from the Delphi of Chora  
8:30 P.M.  
  
_“Ahhhhh!” The bandit chief, Achilles, took a long draught from an amphora of iced wine, gulping down half the contents in one swallow, belching loudly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his grimy hand. “Delicious! I _must_ thank the Athenian fort for providing this fine wine!” He couldn't help but laugh at his own joke; the Athenian commander, and his men, were now deep in the bowels of Hades holding court with the God of Death. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the surprised look on the Commander's face as Achilles drove his dagger deep into the man's belly, the soft grunt as he slowly slid to his knees before he toppled onto his side, his eyes glazing over.  
  
_What a beautiful kill._ His eyes looked dreamy as he took another drink. _Truly, Nemesis has blessed me._

“You look disgustingly pleased with yourself, Achilles,” a husky voice commented above him and he looked up to see white-haired Medea standing there, one hand holding a clay cup, the other balled into a fist and resting on her hip. Her mouth was twisted into a sour grimace and Achilles couldn't help but wonder if her eye was bothering her again; after seeing five physicians, it seemed that the infection was only getting worse. She probably was blind in that eye now or damned close to it.  
  
“I am. Nemesis has been _very_ good to me.”  
  
Medea snorted. “I don't doubt it,” she said wryly, taking a drink and walking around the bonfire to sit down on the ground across from him, stretching out her long legs clad in black leather leggings, Achilles looking at them appreciatively. “Just be careful that you _don't_ give Her any reason to turn on _you_.” She tossed off half of her cup at a draught, sighing with satisfaction as the spicy wine slid pleasantly down her throat. “The Gods are _quite_ a capricious bunch, you know.”  
  
He shrugged, wondering where she had picked up such an outlandish word. Then again, she _was_ an outlander and not a Grecian native. From what he had been told, she was from a land far away, a place called Egypt, if he remembered right.

What she was doing in Greece was anyone's guess, but she was very good at raiding so he was happy to have her. She was also his right-hand man in all things and it wasn't without a little jealousy that she ruled over the other members of his band. Two of the others had complained about her to him but he dismissed them saying that as long as she brought in valuables, he didn't much care _what_ she did. Besides, when two former members of his band tried to assassinate her, she'd ended up killing them before their spear points ever touched her. He'd been quite impressed with her prowess with a blade.  
  
“I know which is why I've made sacrifices to Her throughout the week.” He looked over the top of the amphora at her, her white hair thrown carelessly over one shoulder. “She should be pleased and things _will_ go our way. I've made certain that She will be favorable to us."  
  
“I hope so.” She finished her cup and stood up, her one good eye narrowing as she stared hard at him. “Or it will be _our_ heads on the block.”  
  
He shrugged indifferently.  
  
“We all die sometime, Medea,” he pointed out with brutal logic, meeting her gaze squarely. “Some just go to the Ferryman sooner than others in our line of work.”  
  
“True enough.” She'd half-turned before she looked back, her flinty grey eye flashing sparks. “But only those who are too stupid to know their limitations go even sooner than most. I have _no_ intention of meeting Charon just _yet_ .”  
  
“I wouldn't have thought otherwise.” He gave her a mischievous look. “I thought your kind thought only of death.”  
  
“To a point but we also love to live life.”  
  
He grinned at her. "As you say."  
  
She gave him a stony smile, bowing with a mocking air before she wandered off, no doubt in search of Hekate so they could indulge themselves in a little fun. Achilles watched her as she sauntered away with liquid grace that reminded him of the sleek pad of a panther and again marveled at what a meticulous and thorough killer she was.  
  
He shrugged and went back to drinking his wine, a pleasant buzz flowing through him. He couldn't help but feel _very_ pleased with himself this evening as Medea had noticed; what a prize he'd taken earlier! He laughed as he thought of his latest accomplishment; after snatching that misthios' whelp, he was certain that Alexios would come to try to rescue his offspring. And, when _he_ did, _they_ would be waiting for him...  
  
_If there's one thing that I can count on, its that fucking misthios' tender heart._ He laughed nastily, taking another large draught, ignoring the loud, raucous drunken laughter going on all around him. His thoughts traveled once again to his fateful meeting with Alexios two years earlier, his mouth twisting into a feral snarl.  
  
The bandits had been raiding in and around the Chora of Delphi, taking livestock, burning crops, kidnapping people to sell into slavery and generally raising mayhem wherever they went. Alexios had been hired to deal with them which, he grudgingly admitted, he had quite handily. Before the dust settled, over half of his band lay dead, the rest scattered in every direction, disappearing into the thick foliage surrounding the river.  
  
_That fucking misthios!_   
  
His eyes narrowed, his lip curling into a feral snarl. He'd sworn revenge on Alexios from that day forward, never passing up a chance to even the score. He had to admit, as he snarled and taking another huge draught of wine, that that blasted misthios was _very_ good at his job; he'd never come across a more intimidating foe before in his life.  
  
_He may be a bastard but he's a damned good mercenary. Too good. I have to be careful._   
  
It had been circulating around the camp, never said openly but quietly in subdued, and fearful, whispers, that Alexios was the 'Son of Zeus' or 'Son of Ares'. Achilles privately doubted that either one was true but he couldn't deny that the mercenary was indeed a force to be reckoned with and that his men who had survived the first encounter with him _weren't_ keen on having another encounter with Alexios of Agaia. Which meant that he, and he alone, would be the one to pursue the mercenary to bring him to ground where he could ambush him and kill him.  
  
_Cowards scared of their own shadows..._ He spat on the ground in contempt; his eyes flickered briefly to two bandits who were rolling on the ground, screaming and raining blows down upon each other before being forcibly separated, snorting in disgust as he watched Medea and Hekate toss them both aside like broken dolls.

 _By Zeus,_ he thought, taking a large draught of wine, his hand clenching into a fist, _I swear his head will decorate the pole next to the entrance of the camp before this day is through!  
_  
He could hear soft whimpering sounds and his eyes traveled over to the wooden cage that stood nearby. Inside, two young boys, three girls and that misthios' whelp, stood in trembling cluster, their hands clutching the wooden bars, tear-stained faces looking out. An ugly smile spread over his face before he looked away, nodding his head in satisfaction.  
  
_We have a good lot this time._ He had some willing buyers who wanted to purchase these children; for what reasons, he cared not. Whatever they did to them was no concern of his once they had bought them and he could all but feel a swollen bag of drachmae in his hand.  
  
“Hey, 'Chilles!” he heard a slurred voice say and he looked up to see the craggy, moon-faced countenance of Nestor, scowling as he lurched over to where he sat and sat-rather, he noted, fell would be a more accurate word-down across the bonfire from him, a large wine jar clutched in his left hand.  
  
“What do you want?” he inquired irritably, his eyes narrowing as he lifted the jar to his lips, the sweet wine suddenly tasting sour in his mouth. Nestor had only recently joined his band and there was something about the man that he really didn't like although he couldn't quite put his finger on what that was.  
  
“Jus' came over for some friend...friend..ly **conversation**.” He smiled, a yawning mouth filled with blackened, broken teeth, a sight that made Achilles wince in disgust.  
_  
What in the gods' name did I ever do to deserve this m_ _aláka?!_  
  
“Did you now?” He snorted.  
  
Nestor nodded, raising the jar to his mouth and taking a large swallow, sighing in contentment while Achilles glared at him. He _wasn't_ in the mood for conversation and the man bothered him; he would rather have been alone this evening to drink by himself but it seemed that, like it or not, that he had a visitor.  
  
And one he did not care to engage with.  
  
“I...did.” He nodded so enthusiastically that some of the wine slopped over the side although he didn't seem to notice. “I s-see that we have some...some... _merchandise_.”  
  
Achilles frowned; he hadn't missed the stress on the word _merchandise_ and the sickly gleaming of his watery-blue eyes instantly put him on his guard.  
  
_That bloody...!_  
  
“Yes, we have... _and_ we have a good buyer who will be here tomorrow evening.” He looked squarely at the man, noting the disappointment that suddenly flared on his face, his mouth turning down at the corners. “You are _not_ to touch them and if I see your sick-ass moony face anywhere _near_ that cage, I will personally disembowel you and leave you to rot!”  
  
The expression on Nestor's face changed instantly from friendly to angry in the space of a few seconds.  
  
“No..No..t...fair. I...n-n-need...weapon..s...pract-practice...and...”  
  
Achilles leaned forward, his eyes glimmering, his lips curling into a feral snarl, Nestor shrinking back in alarm, clutching his amphora to his chest.  
  
“I said NO and I will not tell you again. And let _me_ remind _you_ that our _buyer_ is from the _highest_ position of power and he _wouldn't_ like it if the merchandise is damaged _before_ he buys it.” He smiled triumphantly when he saw Nestor's angry face crumble as the implicit threat sank into his fuddled mind, fear filling his widened eyes. “I _trust_ you understand my meaning?”  
  
Nestor nodded, his hand shaking as he clutched the handle of the wine jar so tightly that he could see the man's knuckles turning white.  
  
Achilles smiled triumphantly. “Get out of here you fucking pig! The sight of your ugly face disgusts me.” He turned from him, staring off into the star-filled sky until he heard Nestor get unsteadily to his feet and lurch away, his back ramrod straight when he saw him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
_M_ _aláka.  
  
_Once he was out of sight, Achilles sighed and then motioned to another bandit who stood close by, casually leaning against a tree. He knew that he had been standing there for some time, quietly listening.  
  
The man nodded and walked over to him, his eyes flickering to the retreating Nestor.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Make sure that Nestor _doesn't_ live to see the dawn, Timothy.” His eyes gleamed with menace. “I _don't_ want _that_ malákaruining our business arrangement because _he_ wants to use the merchandise in order to practice his weapons training.” He snorted. “Although I doubt that that idiot could penetrate a tree trunk even if he was standing next to it at this point but we're being offered a huge sum of drachmae for _this_ sale and I _don't_ want him to ruin it.”  
  
“Do we know who the buyer is?”  
  
Achilles nodded. “One of the highest in the land; that's all you need to know.”  
  
Timothy nodded and then smiled, bowing theatrically from the waist. “It shall be done as you wish.”  
_  
_ Achilles rolled his eyes as the bandit chuckled. _Gods save me from former actors. They always feel the need to be dramatic._  
  
“Good. And make it look like an accident; I _don't_ want the others _knowing_ that I had put him put out of the way.”  
  
The bandit grinned, touching the rim of his rusty helmet with his fingertips. “Quiet killings are my _specialty_.”  
  
“I know. That's why I asked you.”  
  
The man chortled once again before slipping off into the night, Achilles watching him leave through narrowed eyes until he was lost to sight. Once he was gone, Achilles settled back down as comfortably as he could on the cold ground, visions of drachmae dancing in his head, an unpleasant smile spreading across his face.  
  
Some time later, he heard a soft cry of pain that was suddenly muffled and he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction as he took another draught of wine.

 _Gotta give the young bastard his due;_ _he's_ good _at his_ _job, dramatic posturing aside_. He took another swallow, the slightly sour iced wine tasting _very_ sweet indeed. _Now then, with_ that _little bit of unpleasantness out of the way, let's plan what we'll do with the drachmae we'll be getting..._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
8:31 P.M.  
  
** Ajax looked despondently from between the wooden bars, his cold cramped hands wrapped around them, trying not to cry. He was frightened over his kidnapping-although he still wasn't sure exactly _why_ the bandit had grabbed him-and wondered if Pater Lykaon and Pater Alexios were coming to find him. **  
  
** _They_ have _to know that someone took me; they_ have t _o by now._ He bit his lip. _I wonder if Timon is okay; it didn't look like he was moving when the bandit dragged me away._ Hearing a soft sound from somewhere to his right, his emerald-green eyes flickered over toward it, the other children were clustered together.  
  
Ajax's heart went out to them. They were in the same situation that he found himself and they were even more frightened than he was. At least, _his_ paters were sure to try and find him and he knew that they wouldn't give up searching until they did.  
_  
Pater...you were right. I am too young to go off outside of the Chora by myself. I'm sorry that I didn't really listen to you...I wish I had.  
_   
He sighed, turning his head to look at the other children who shared the cage with him. They were all younger than he was and had been here much longer than he had if their dirty, torn clothing, grimy faces and tangled hair were any indication. He also noted that naked despair was also present in their expressions, softly weeping. He wished that he could do something to make them feel better.  
  
_What could I say? Let's just keep hoping and putting our faith in the Gods to send someone to rescue us?_ Ajax shook his head. _It's obvious that they have been for much longer than I and I think they've given up hope of any kind of rescue by now.  
_   
He sighed again, his eyes closing as he lowered his head, feeling a twinge of despair. _Paters...I...I hope that you both know how much I love you. I may not get the chance to tell you both..._ He opened his eyes again, tears glistening in the corners. _I wish I had listened to Pater Lykaon... I also hope that they notice the trail of colored stones that I let fall from my pocket while the bandit was distracted and thought I was unconscious. I remember Pater Alexios saying to leave a trail if someone has taken someone and I did my best to do so. Will they see it?_  
  
Ajax looked up at the sky, sending up a quick, desperate prayer.  
  
 _Please, Gods, let them see it!_


	7. Chapter 7

** 9:20 P.M.  
**   
“Any sign of them?” Alexios asked from where he sat on Phobos' back, his eyes scanning the dark woods that were by the river, the small lantern he held in his hand throwing a dim light on the rocky ground in front of them.   
  
“Nothing yet,” Lykaon replied, biting his lip as he lifted a similar lantern in his left hand, scanning the surrounding area.  
  
“Malákes!” Alexios swore softly under his breath, his hands tightening on Phobos' reins until his knuckles were white. They had been searching for over an hour now at the last place where Timon remembered seeing Ajax before the bandit struck him down.  
  
Penelope had tried to convince Timon to come home with her after Lykaon had patched him up but he refused, his voice anguished. He felt  _ personally _ responsible for Ajax being taken in the first place even though both Alexios and Lykaon had tried, unsuccessfully, to assure him that they  _ didn't _ blame him for what had happened.  
  
In the end, she had given up trying to convince him and decided to come along to help search for the boy, despite Timon's protestations to the contrary.  
  
“Go home, Penelope,” he'd insisted, walking slowly toward where Lykaon stood, leaning on Penelope and wincing slightly as he loped toward him, Alexios seated atop Phobos on his immediate right.  
  
She shook her head, her chin set stubbornly. “If you're going to be a damned fool and go galavanting about the Chora in the dead of night,” she said tersely, her jaw squared, “then I'm coming with you.” She gave him the gimlet eye. “Those children will be needing a soothing presence and what better one than that of a mother?”  
  
He'd tried to tell her to go home again but his pleas fell on deaf ears; after awhile, he'd given up trying to convince her to leave since it was clear to all that she wouldn't and accepted her presence gratefully.  
  
Lykaon walked slowly down the road, holding the lantern out in front of him as he did so, his eyes narrowed. _ Where could they have gone?  _ He stopped at the fork, taking a deep breath. T _ hey had to have come this way; there's no other possible direction they could have taken. _ He looked down at the ground, frowning.  _ I don't see any footprints so I wonder if the bandit had a cart or a wagon of some sort. It would certainly make sense and would go a long way to explaining why there aren't any footprints or sandal tracks left behind. _ **_  
_ **   
A snort made him look up, and he turned to see Alexios, seated on Phobos' back, looking down at him, his face creased with worry.  
  
“Any luck?”  
  
Lykaon shook his head. “Not yet but we  _ have  _ to be looking in the right direction.”   
  
Alexios' voice was skeptical. “How do you know that? We could very well be in the wrong place.”  
  
The Physician spread his arms out wide. “There's nowhere else they could have gone  _ except _ this way but I don't see any footprints or sandal tracks to prove it for certain.”

“That's curious,” the mercenary agreed, nibbling on his lower lip thoughtfully, Phobos pawing the rocky ground in front of him, Alexios soothing him with soft words. He straightened up, lifting his lantern high in the air. “I wonder...”  
  
“About?” Timon asked curiously, leaning on Penelope as they made their way slowly over to them.  
  
Alexios chuckled self consciously. “It's nothing. I was merely wondering if Ajax remembered the lesson I was trying to teach him about leaving a trail if someone takes you.” He gazed down on Lykaon, an embarrassed expression on his face. “I...felt that he should know what to do to try to protect himself just in case; not many come at me directly but they could, and would if they wanted me badly enough, come after my family.” His face hardened, his eyes misting, his voice catching in his throat. “Poseidon take them if they've hurt our...son!”  
  
Lykaon walked over to his side, reaching for his hand which Alexios grabbed, squeezing hard, a grateful look passing over his face. He was as afraid as Lykaon was but he had been doing his best to try and keep it down; now it was working its way to the surface and finding free expression. _  
  
_“Don't worry, Alexios,” Lykaon said soothingly, his eyes soft as he looked at his husband. “We'll find him. He's a bright boy even if he is impetuous and I'm sure that your lesson has been taken to heart.”  
  
Alexios sighed, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it, sitting up straight in the saddle. “I certainly hope so.”  
  
They searched for another half an hour before Alexios gave a shout, his voice happy.   
  
“I found something!”  
  
The others raced as fast as they could over to where Alexios and Phobos stood, his lantern held high over the road leading to the river.   
  
“Look! Over there! Do you see them?”  
  
Lykaon lifted his lantern to where Alexios held his, his eyes narrowing.  
  
“See what?”  
  
“There!” Alexios shook the lantern, the sputtering light throwing crazy shadows on the road. “LOOK!”  
  
Lykaon did as he was told and then a sparkle caught his eye, exactly in the place where Alexios said it would be. A small red stone lay on the road, twinkling softly as the oil lamp illuminated it.  
  
“I see it!” he shouted back, hope rising in his breast as he saw another stone. And another. And another. And another. A row of them littered the road in front of them, indicating the path that the bandit had taken Ajax; the clever boy _had_ remembered his Pater's lesson well, leaving behind a trail for them to follow.  
  
 _Gods be praised!_  
  
“Lykaon and Timon, you both come with me! Penelope, get Philip and ask him to bring some men. I _don't_ know exactly __how many bandits are in that camp and the last thing I want is surprises.”  
  
Penelope nodded, grabbing her husband's hand and saying, “Please be careful, Timon. I love you,” before she released it and turned, walking slowly down the road toward Philip's home.

Timon looked at Alexios.  
  
“What do you want us to do, misthios?”  
  
“I want you to hold Phobos and make sure that he doesn't run off while I sneak in and take out as many of the bandits that I can who put up a fight. After we've cleared it and found Ajax, I want Lykaon to check to see if he's all right and unhurt. Perhaps even the other missing children who were taken may be here with him.”  
  
Timon nodded, grabbing Phobos' reins as Alexios dropped them, vaulting out of the saddle and landing in a kneeling crouch on the ground, his hands outstretched to steady himself before he got to his feet.  
  
He looked at Lykaon, his hand stretching out to caress his cheek tenderly, his hazel eyes shining.  
  
“I love you, Healer,” he murmured softly and Lykaon nodded, his own hand lifting to cover his husband's, squeezing it affectionately.  
  
“I love you, too, misthios.” He stepped forward, his hand cupping the side of Alexios' face as he leaned down and kissed him again. “Please be careful and don't take any unnecessary chances. We _don't_ know _what_ kind of numbers we're dealing with and I _don't_ want you in any danger that you can possibly avoid.”  
  
“I'll be careful, I promise.” Alexios hugged him, kissed him again and then slipped away, disappearing into the darkness, Lykaon looking after him.  
 _  
The gods go with you, Beloved...  
  
_ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
11:00 P.M.  
  
**A muffled scream was the first indication to Achilles' fuddled mind that something was wrong and he snapped to attention at once, his ears straining to hear anything in the silent forest. The bonfire had died down gradually over the past three hours, plunging the camp into a gloomy darkness.  
  
 _Did I really hear something or...?_  
  
He looked around him, his eyes taking some time to adjust to the blackness of the night. The moon had been covered with clouds at some point and a thick gloom had descended over the area like a shroud, Achilles shivering at the thought.  
  
A cursory glance held nothing amiss and he was about to chalk it up to his imagination when he thought he heard _another_ muffled cry that was quickly cut off somewhere in the darkness.  
  
He scrambled to his feet, cursing as he struck his head on a low lying branch, stars dancing before his eyes. There was no mistake; he _had_ heard a noise coming from close by. He grabbed his sword, wrenching it out of its sheath and holding it out in front of him. He grabbed a burning branch with his free hand from the bonfire, his mouth twisting in anger.  
  
“Who's there?” he cried, sweeping the torch out in wide arcs around him as he stumbled slightly on a pebble. “Show yourself!”  
  
A chilly silence descended, and he couldn't help but shiver as a cold wind began to blow, the fire from the torch flickering. He couldn't see anything but he knew that he had _definitely_ heard something.  
  
A branch cracked off to his right and he whirled in that direction, the torch shedding embers crazily in all directions. “ _Jason, is that you?! Hekate?! Medea?! Leander?! Ares?! Priam?! Helen?!”_

Alexios knew that Achilles was very superstitious so he put everything he had into fooling him to think that Divine retribution was on its way for his crimes.  
  
Achilles whirled to and fro in an ever widening circle and Alexios, from his hiding spot in the bushes a few feet away from him, his spear slowly, and silently, sliding out of the throat of Medea, could see, and hear, the growing terror of the bandit chief. “ _This isn't some kind of jest. Answer me, damn you, or I'll run you all through with a fucking spear!”  
_  
 _I thought that this would get his attention._ _And now..._ Alexios smiled grimly as he slowly made his way closer to the bandit, his eyes never once leaving him for an instant. He could feel the smoldering rage building into an inferno inside him but he inwardly urged himself to patience; behind him, he'd left a few more figures sprawled around the camp that he had killed and was now eyeing a few more that he could see in and around the camp. After these were taken care of, he could deal directly with the bandit chief himself.  
  
 _“I mean it! I'll kill all of you bastards if you don't reply now!”_ The bandit's voice was rising in pitch, the fear clearly palpable. Stone cold silence again filled the air as Alexios finished slitting the throats of the remaining bandits-who died without a murmur although one sporadically kicked in his death throes, knocking over a stone jar that clattered against the tree trunk-before turning and heading straight for the fearful bandit leader.  
  
 _Stay where you are, you miserable bastard,_ Alexios thought angrily, his teeth clenched as he forced himself into a glacial calm. _You won't see the dawn; death is coming for you, I promise you that!_  
  
The bandit chief continued to yell, his voice cracking with fear as he whirled and stumbled about the camp, the torch spewing embers at an even more frantic pace now. All of this locomotion only served Alexios' purpose to the better as it brought him ever closer to where he was now hidden. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught the glimmer of a dark blue stone and, when he turned his head to look, he could see Ajax and the children standing there, hands clutching the bars, their eyes straining fearfully into the darkness, the younger kids crying piteously while Ajax and the older brother did their best to try to comfort them.  
 _  
Don't worry, children. Soon you'll all be safe and home with your families again. I swear it!  
  
_ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in order to calm himself, the rage within him white hot. There could be no turning back from his purpose now; his son's life, and those of the other captive children with him, depended on him keeping a cool head. He thought he could hear a low roar somewhere in the distance but he wasn't completely certain and he hoped that Philip had been able to raise a small band of armed men to some assist them if necessary.  
  
He crept closer, the man now babbling with fright. Apparently, he, too had heard the sounds in the distance and he had had to have had some kind of knowledge as to what it meant if the even more crazed whirling and shouting was any indication. He was nearing his limit of endurance and he had to strike soon sine the last thing he wanted to deal with was a senseless, gibbering madman.  
  
Alexios continued to slowly advance forward, his teeth clenched, murder in his eyes; his hand stole to the sword strapped to his side and slowly, and quietly, drew it out of its sheath and held it out to the side as he came closer.  
  
The bandit was crazed with fear, gibbering all kinds of nonsense that Alexios thought might be prayers or curses; he wasn't really sure which. The man was completely consumed by fear and his mind must have been imagining all kinds of different things as he stabbed tree trunks and the soft ground, screaming in terror as he saw, illuminated in the firelight, the dead body of Hektor, his mouth wide open, his eyes glazed with terror.  
  
A terrified scream was torn from Achilles' throat as he saw the other dead bodies of his band strewn about in a wide circle like a bevy of broken dolls, their limbs contorted into terrible positions, their throats either cut or torn open from behind, their faces frozen in expressions of pure terror.  
  
Alexios waited for the right moment and slowly rose, his voice taunting as he advanced toward the terrified man.  
  
“Well, well, if it isn't the great Achilles.” His voice was taunting. “I should have known that you would have been behind all of this.”  
  
Achilles whirled around in surprise, his mouth working though no sound emerged, his eyes wide.  
 _  
“Alexios!_ ”  
  
“One and the same.” Alexios bowed as he stepped into the light of the torch in the bandit's shaky hand, his eyes glittering with terrible rage, his voice a low growl. “I believe that you have someone who belongs to me...and I am here to collect him.”  
  
“W-Who?” he stuttered, trying to clear his mind, his legs feeling like jelly as the mercenary advanced toward him, one slow step at a time.  
  
“Ajax. You _know_ who _he_ is, don't _you_?” Alexios advanced upon him like a circling shark, his eyes locked onto him and never once letting him slip out of sight. “Of course you do, you fucking shit! He's **my** son!”  
  
Achilles' mouth dropped open but remained mute, the trembling in his limbs becoming worse, stumbling as he backed away from the enraged mercenary.  
  
Alexios laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Nothing to say? It seems that you had plenty when you took my son and injured an old friend, Timon. You know Timon surely; you struck him down earlier today.” He smiled wolfishly. “An old man, Achilles; you struck down an old man. You know, the gods _don't_ look kindly on _that_ any more than they like bandits who steal children to sell as slaves in the agora.”  
  
Achilles gaped. “H-how did..you...?”  
  
“How did I know?” Alexios grinned as he stood in front of him, his lips curled into a feral snarl. “I'm a fucking _misthios_ , Achilles; figure it out!” The rage on the mercenary's face was clear and Achilles chittered with fear, the back of his thighs hitting something soft, yowling as he flew backward over Priam's dead body to lie sprawled on the ground.   
  
Alexios smiled savagely, advancing toward the bandit chief one slow step at a time until he stood over him like an avenging Fury. “I also took care of another lingering problem as you can see; there's no one here except you and me.” He stretched out his arm, the point of the sword sweeping toward his throat. “And I'm going to make _very_ certain that you will never hurt anyone ever again nor tear apart any other family by stealing their children!”  
  
Achilles squeezed his eyes tightly shut, moaning in fear, waiting for the fatal blow...that didn't come. He waited in unbearable silence for some time until he at last opened his eyes to see a small band of armed men milling about around them. Alexios still stood there, sword point still resting in the hollow of his throat, an unpleasant expression on his handsome face.  
  
“I have them, Alexios!” Lykaon said as he hurried past, herding a trembling Ajax and three other children ahead of him to the cart that waited a few feet away, armed men standing guard. “And the other children are free!”  
  
“So I see.” Alexios nodded in grim satisfaction before he turned his attention back to the trembling bandit. “Take them to safety; I'll be with you shortly.”  
  
Lykaon nodded and hurried away, until the hubbub died away into an uneasy silence.  
  
Achilles looked up at the mercenary, now his executioner. There would be no mercy, he well knew.  
  
“Hades awaits!” Alexios' mouth twisted as he drove the point of the sword through Achilles' throat, the bandit choking and gasping on his own blood as it fountained out of his neck, the bandit's hand scrabbling uselessly as he dropped both sword and torch and the last thing he saw before he died was Alexios' rage filled face filling his world until his eyes glazed over in death.  



End file.
